


Severance

by lilac-vode (MollyMerula)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, this fits right after part I of my previous fallen order fic so u can read that first if u want, this turned out even sadder than i wanted i'm so sorry cal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyMerula/pseuds/lilac-vode
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	Severance

On a good day, Bracca might be described as miserable. For Cal Kestis, fresh out of an escape pod, rattled by the betrayal of his battalion and the death of his Master, it is far from a good day.

And he knows the night will be worse.

For what seems like hours, he has been making his way toward the shipbreaking yard that seems to be the only inhabited area in the entire region. He has no idea what to do once he gets there, but what other choice does he have, except to hope that some of the workers might be kind enough to take pity on a lost child?

In the distance, through the fog and rain, he can see lights glowing, cold and dim, inside the buildings of the scrapyard. It looks and sounds like a grim, noisy, dangerous place, but it’s the only hope he has for surviving the night. Except – will he be welcomed there? If Master Tapal’s own troopers have turned against the Jedi, what about the rest of the galaxy?

Cal decides it’s best to play it safe, and he pulls off layers of his robes until he’s shivering in just his under-tunic and trousers. Praying that his boots look ordinary enough, he takes a step or two closer to the settlement, and then stops. If he is to disguise his past as a Padawan, he has to shed more than his robes. His hair, clipped short except for the braid that marks him as a learner of the ways of the Force, is a dead giveaway.

There’s no way around it. Cal twists his braid around his fingers one more time, blinking back tears at the familiar comfort of its silky touch, and he knows that if he doesn’t cut it off now, he never will.

He can’t bring himself to do it the traditional way, with his master’s lightsaber. He hasn’t earned that. Instead he picks up a scrap of metal he finds on the ground, sliced from the wreck of a ship, and shears the braid off of his head. It takes some sawing, and by the end of it he’s cut his fingers as much as his hair, but when he checks his reflection in a puddle on the ground, the face staring back at him doesn’t look like a Padawan anymore. Just a kid.

Is that all he is now?

Cal’s eyes well up as he stares at the twist of orange hair in his hand. Letting go of it feels wrong, like he’s letting go of his last tie to the Jedi Order. He ends up placing it gently, almost reverentially, in the fork of a branch far from the path, where perhaps, he hopes, some creature might at least be able to use it in their nest. He feels like he should do or say something – he isn’t used to anything being so unceremonious – but he can’t imagine that the Jedi Code provides any kind of protocol for a situation like this, so he just stands there for a moment, and lets his tears fall with the rain.

Then he turns back and heads for the scrapyard, and wonders why walking toward those lights feels like walking into darkness.


End file.
